


Trial and Error

by higgity_heck



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Celebrations, Confessions, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Drinking, Everyone In The Mighty Nein Knows, Fluff, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Handholding, Kissing, M/M, Shovel Talk, Teasing, Wizard Flirting, aborted declarations of love, hes good at hiding it tho, occasional light angst, please just let this poor man talk to his wizard crush, shy!Essek, slowish burn, the inherent romance of large libraries, whats sexier than wizards NOTHING
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22791703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/higgity_heck/pseuds/higgity_heck
Summary: In the privacy of his own head, Essek marveled at the family the Mighty Nein had found in each other. A handful of people, seemingly with very little in common, and they had forged their own path, together.The problem with that strong sense of family the Mighty Nein shared, though, was how incredibly difficult it was to get someone on their own. Such as Caleb, to pick a completely random example.(or, Essek really just wants a minute of privacy with Caleb. It takes a lot of trial, and even more error.)
Relationships: Essek Thelyss & Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss
Comments: 66
Kudos: 508





	1. Eins

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter One!! chapter two should be out soon, expect no more than a week.

So, the thinly-veiled invitation to stay the night he’d extended the other week hadn’t landed. Essek didn’t entirely understand _why_ that was; even after three glasses of one of his nicer wines, he’d assume Beau was still perceptive enough to see that inviting Caleb to his house late at night was not an occasion that warranted a third wheel. Unless she was purposefully trying to interfere with his attempts to get Caleb alone, which, honestly, wouldn’t surprise him. The oddly sibling-like relationship she and Caleb seemed to share was one he didn’t think he’d ever fully understand.

Not that he didn’t have any siblings, of course; within Den Thelyss, he knew of countless individuals who technically counted as his brothers and sisters. He’d never felt the sense of unity with them that permeated the Mighty Nein, though, and had never felt as welcomed, either.

The problem with that strong sense of family the Mighty Nein shared, he discovered, was how incredibly difficult it was to get someone on their own. Such as Caleb, to pick a completely random example.

At the entrance to the study, Caleb breathed a sigh and leaned back against the door. Through it, Essek could still hear the mildly chaotic clamour of the others still talking and laughing over dinner.

Caleb gave him a small, apologetic smile as he straightened, pulling his spellbook from its holster as he went. “I am sorry for the questions about your sex life, on their behalf. Most people tend not to like us, so I think they’re just, ah, excited.”

“You do not have to apologise for them,” Essek assured him, though he could feel the tips of his ears burning again. He had no idea what made Jester think he was secretly ‘boning’ the Skysibil, but it was something he would likely have nightmares about. “Their excitability is… refreshing. I am glad I’ve been well received.”

Caleb snorted, laying his book on the bench on the far side of the room and flicking through it. “Well received? I cannot imagine a world in which you are not cajoled into joining us for dinner most nights.”

Essek stopped for a moment, taking the chance to observe Caleb while he had his back turned to him. It wasn’t often he could do that, since Caduceus or Jester would clue on too quickly for him to dare try it. Of course, the man was just objectively nice to look at; Essek had never realised he apparently liked red hair so much, or for someone to be a good six inches taller than him. But sharp jaw and very blue eyes aside, Essek had been… well received? Caleb hadn’t even stopped what he was doing when he said it – as if it were a given, something so expected that it was ridiculous to even question it. So odd, how such as suspicious, guarded man had so quickly decided that yes, Essek was one of them. Was one of _Caleb’s_ , if he could be so presumptuous.

“That – that is comforting to hear,” he managed, fighting the urge to fiddle with the hem of his sleeve. “So, what is this spell you’ve found? You seemed eager to show me.”

Finally, what he’d been looking forward to the most about this evening. Of course, he enjoyed the company of the Mighty Nein as a whole, but looking over spells with Caleb was appealing in ways that probably extended beyond just a shared interest.

Oblivious to Essek’s somewhat distracted reverie, Caleb slid onto a stool and motioned Essek over with an impatient hand.

“Well, I wished to show you because this is not just a spell that I found,” Caleb began as he pushed his spellbook towards Essek. Eager, indeed. “This is, ah, one of my own devising. I call it _Web of Fire._ ”

Now that was impressive. It was one thing to copy a spell and recreate it on your own, or even to modify an existing spell; creating an original spell from scratch was a different kettle of much more complex fish.

Essek slid onto the stool next to him, sitting closer than was probably strictly necessary, and gently picked up the spellbook. The soft, rugged leather binding was so different to his own, but there was a certain degree of comfort and familiarity compared to the gilded edges and pristine parchment of his own spellbook. Idly, he figured there was a metaphor in there somewhere.

“Would you walk me through how you did it? I’m interested to hear your thought process,” Essek asked, flicking through a few pages. Even without looking at him, he could see the excited grin spread across Caleb’s features. It was… disarmingly sweet, in a way Essek only saw when they were going through spells.

“Of course,” he rushed out, scooting a few inches closer as he pulled a length of string out from one of his many coat pockets. Essek had noticed him fiddling with it before, but had assumed it was simply a nervous habit.

“In my experimentation, I found that the incorporation of a material component in tandem with the somatic made the gesture required much more precise,” Caleb immediately began, sitting on the edge of the stool. “Allowing for more of a specific targeting effect that can’t usually be achieved with more powerful fire-based spells–”

Essek leaned closer, casting an eye over Caleb’s neat script while listening. The notation was flawless, as expected; he couldn’t see any way that the spell could be further optimised for battle. It was truly a work of art. From the corner of his eye, he could see Caleb’s hands moving as he spoke, gesticulating excitedly as he did only when they studied together.

“-The phosphorous is more of a backup, as it requires preparation beforehand, but it can be useful in certain situations–“

Essek mostly listened to his explanation, his attention wandering slightly from what he was actually talking about. Certainly, he was interested in what Caleb had been working on, but he had plenty of time to look at the spell in more detail; how often was he able to get Caleb, without the others, and so openly excited about his interests? Moreover, how often was he able to get him alone, and for long enough to privately… What would Beau call it? ‘Check him out’? Part of him detested how apt the phrase was.

“–not only that, but you’ll see _here_ I modified the equation to allow for some diversity in the targeting feature–”

“Teach me.”

Caleb paused in his enthusiastic monologue, blinked twice, and sat back slightly in his seat.

“You would – you want me to teach you? My spell?” he asked, as if Essek would be talking about anybody else’s fantastic, personalised spell.

“Of course; seeing as this is your labour of love, I’d like to take the time to learn it. It’s not often you get to learn a spell straight from the brilliant man who formulated it.” _And quite frankly, this is the first time all week I’ve been able to get you alone, so I’m going to take advantage of this opportunity you’ve handed to me on a silver platter._

The slightest of flushes dusted itself across Caleb’s ears and cheeks, making Essek briefly wonder if he’d learned to read minds and had actually heard that last part. The fear was quickly dismissed, though; if he could hear what Essek privately thought about him, he’d either be in the man’s bed or sitting on the curb outside at that moment. Likely the latter, given his own track record with being successfully emotionally open with others.

“Ja, okay,” Caleb managed through a growing smile, his eyes taking on an even brighter spark than had shone in them before, as he stood and busied himself with rifling through components scattered around the bench. Some of them looked distinctly flammable, which was somewhat worrying. “Ja, what do you – do you have ink? I have ink, do you need it?”

Essek just smiled quietly to himself as he watched Caleb dart excitedly around the space. It shouldn’t have been surprising that he’d enjoy teaching others; Essek knew Caleb had taught Nott many of her spells, and with his passion for knowledge it made sense that he’d wish to share it with others. Still, it was surprising how… sweet it was. He was cute like this, in a sort of dorky way.

Shit. He was in deeper than he thought.

“I suppose you’d better, ah, copy this down first,” Caleb started, unaware of Essek’s ongoing internal crisis.

“Of course.”

Essek began the first stage of learning the spell, copying the diagrams and equations from Caleb’s book to his own. Though he didn’t copy them down, he took the time to read the notes and scribbled-out ideas in the margins; something dubbed ‘vault of amber’ had been circled twice. There were drawings of dicks too, but those didn’t look like Caleb had put them there.

“A cat’s cradle; very on-brand,” Essek murmured to himself. “Would you believe I never actually learnt how to make one?”

Caleb shrugged sheepishly. “Ah, it was just something I picked up as a child and wanted to incorporate. It works well for this incantation, but you can just use the phosphorous instead if you don’t want to learn how to make a cat’s cradle.”

“If I’m going to learn your spell, I want to learn it in full, Caleb.” _It’s your spell, I want to do it for_ you _. I want this time with you, alone._

Caleb turned that shy, brilliant smile on him once again, and passed him the length of string he was fiddling with. It had been coated in phosphorous and tied together to make a loop, secured with a square knot.

“Let me show you, then.”

Caleb’s teaching was methodical and thorough, just like everything else he did, leading him through each individual step. It wasn’t ridiculously complicated – in fact, he probably could’ve figured out how to do it on his own if given enough time – but part of Essek revelled in the closeness, in the gentle peace of somebody teaching him to do something as homely as a string trick.

“Now, if you pull out your ring finger from that loop – ah, no, let me show you–”

With a fumble of his fingers Caleb’s hands were on his own, guiding him through the motions. Essek’s were suited mainly to writing and casting, but Caleb’s hands were broader and defter, the callouses catching against Essek’s where they touched. Essek’s breath caught in his throat, and he couldn’t stop himself from glancing away from the string in his hands to Caleb’s face. For his part, Caleb was entirely focused on the spell, saving Essek the embarrassment of being caught panicking over Caleb just touching his hand. He really should’ve been listening to whatever Caleb was saying to him. But the closeness, which he hadn’t experienced with someone he actually cared about in nearly fifty years, was intoxicating. He was something of a prodigy, after all; he could afford to let his attention wander a little and rely on his intellect to catch him back up.

“–and you’ll see how I’ve modified the targeting feature if you’ll move your wrist just so–”

Caleb’s hand was on his shoulder, now, the other on his wrist to change the angle he was holding the half-finished cat’s cradle at. Alright, so he’d lost track of the conversation completely at this point, too preoccupied with the longing that beat against his ribs like the rhythm of his own heart.

The feeling was familiar, like when he’d stood in the street outside the Xhorhouse and wondered if their invitation to dinner was genuine. He’d opened his heart to these people before, and they hadn’t turned him away or scorned him; they were kinder than that. And his feelings for Caleb – as much as he was loathe to acknowledge they were anything beyond platonic – they were the same thing, right?

_(It absolutely isn’t,_ part of him whispered, _because you’re really not sure if Caleb would want anything to do with you if he knew just how often Caleb crossed your mind at night when you’re trying to make himself trance. And it isn’t the same, because you’ve been practically invited to consider the Mighty Nein your friends; you’ve never been invited to go catching feelings for some handsome, talented Empire wizard.)_

But he wasn’t going to acknowledge that, or he’d lose his nerve.

“Caleb,” he said suddenly, placing the phosphorous-coated string absently on the bench to catch the blue-eyed gaze just inches away. He looked back, eyes wide and expectant; it might’ve just been wishful thinking, but Essek swore he saw his gaze dip momentarily to his lips.

“Ja?” he answered, pausing in his instruction. He made no motion to move away, letting his hand keep its place on Essek’s shoulder.

“Do you–“ he started, then cut himself off. Was that too forward? Or perhaps it wasn’t forward enough, to the point of Caleb potentially missing the point. Was Essek himself entirely sure of what his point was? Gods above and below, when did just talking to people become so _hard_?

“Essek? What is wrong?” Caleb asked as he turned to face him more fully, brow furrowing in concern and confusion. For a moment, Essek got distracted by the way his eyes softened as he looked at him. He’d never realised Caleb’s eyelashes were that long, actually.

_You’re not looking for a confession,_ Essek told himself, refusing to acknowledge the traitorous flame of hope that burned in his chest. _Just… a sign. Confirmation, that you’re wanted here. That_ he _wants you here, because if he doesn’t–_

Well. If he didn’t want anything to do with him on a personal level – even just as friends, even just something more than someone to get useful spells from – maybe his father had been right. And, petty as it was, he wanted nothing more than to prove his father wrong.

This close, Essek could see the royal blue of his eyes in exquisite detail; they seemed to glimmer, as if reflecting the light of a near flame.

Wait. They _were_ reflecting something. The candle was on the other side of the table, though. What was–

_Shit_.

Immediately following, four things happened in very quick succession. Somewhere on the bench, light and heat flared suddenly, making him throw an arm over his eyes on instinct; Caleb let out a shout, and the warm hands on his wrist and shoulder disappeared; a door bounced off a stone wall, and more voices joined Caleb’s; and finally, Essek _really_ wished he’d paid attention to where he’d put that gods-damned phosphorous. It was a lab, for crying out loud.

“What’s going on in–”

“Caduceus! Caleb’s setting the house on fire–”

_“Verdammt noch mal!”_

Another flash of bright light – which had Essek considering an investment in sunglasses, or something – and the sudden heat at his side dissipated. Blinking away the more persistent spots on his vision, his sensitive sight gradually returned to him. Jester and Nott had apparated in the entrance to the study, both looking some degree of panicked and confused, while the lines of a simple transmutation sigil faded from the air. At his side, Caleb let out a relieved sigh as he surveyed the charred state of the work desk.

He waved a placating hand at the women in the doorway. “Just a, ah, chemical incident; everything’s fine. I should’ve put the chemicals away before we started, it was my mistake.”

“I apologise,” Essek cut in. “I wasn’t watching where I put the phosphorous. It was hardly your fault.”

Caleb looked like he wanted to protest – always taking the blame – but was quickly distracted by Jester and Nott’s fervent whispering. What they were actually talking about, Essek wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“How – how did you get in here so quickly? Where were you, outside the door?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the two of them. Jester smiled unconvincingly innocently, while Nott just opened and closed her mouth a few times before trying to seem casual.

“We were just hanging out, right Jester? Because we live here. And we’re just hanging out.”

Caleb fixed her with a flat stare that suggested this wasn’t the first time they’d had a conversation along these lines.

“…Right.”

A silent moment passed, in which some sort of silent exchange occurred between Jester, Nott and Caleb. Somehow managing to brighten her own radiant, awkward smile, Jester looped her arm in Nott’s. “Anyways, good to see everything is okay! We’ll just be here, in the training room! Because we live here!”

She backpedalled rapidly out of the room, dragging Nott with her, while the halfling-turned-goblin just squinted suspiciously at the two men. The eye contact was kept, even as she let herself get tugged into the training room by Jester. Still far closer to the study than Essek would’ve liked, though.

“Don’t mind them, they’re just… curious. They like you,” Caleb said, slightly sheepishly.

“I am flattered, then. And a little bit worried.”

A companionable pause, in which they surveyed the charred surface of the work bench and the still-smoking spell components. The smell reminded him distinctly of Professor Waccoh’s lab, actually.

“I suppose we should leave it here for today, before anything else gets destroyed,” Caleb mused, moving to gather what remained of the scorched parchment and materials. “We’ll pick it up another time, ja?”

Internally, Essek preened at the promise of a next time. “Perhaps stopping now would be for the best. I’m not going to give up my chance at getting my hands on a Widogast original, though. Could be very valuable someday.”

Caleb laughed, a dry chuckle that had him ducking his head as he gathered his spellbook and component pouch. He paused, opening his mouth before rethinking what he was going to say, then saying it anyway.

“Essek, what were you going to say? Before the, uh,” he made a small exploding motion with his hands. It was infuriatingly endearing. “And everybody ran in. It seemed, ah, important.”

_(Do you trust me as an ally, or as a friend?)_

_(When we’re alone, what do you want from me?)_

_(Nobody’s been interested in me before. Not like you are.)_

Essek spared a sidelong glance to Jester and Nott, still partially visible in the adjoining room. They looked far too happy to be within hearing distance for this particular – ideally private – exchange.

“I’ll tell you another time.”


	2. Zwei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essek tries a different approach, and it goes about as well as you'd expect.

Alright, so experimenting together wasn’t going to work. That was fine; trying to express your feelings for somebody was significantly less intimate if you both were covered in phosphorous and/or an open flame, anyway. He could arrange some kind gesture – ideally something they could share together alone – and go from there. Without Caleb’s friends storming in on them at any moment.

The Marble Tomes Conservatory loomed above them, the magnificent series of structures and arches overwhelming in their beauty. From within the glass and metal walls, little lights of orange and green flickered, giving the effect of one massive mechanism of stained glass. It was one of Essek’s favourite places in the entirety of Rosohna; one dedicated more towards learning and enlightenment rather than blind faith in the Luxon. Part of him knew Caleb had wanted to get in there since the moment he’d set foot in the city, but another just wanted to share the space with him, and find some relative privacy in the endless shelves.

“Thank you for this, for bringing me here. Having access to the conservatory will help our hunt for the cult and my own research more than I can express. It – it means a lot that you would do this,” Caleb said, voice hushed in respect for the other library-goers. They hadn’t even entered the building proper, but the quiet excitement and wonder Essek could see in his eyes was entrancing.

 _Yes, exactly, that’s what I’m trying to achieve here_. “Of course. I am glad to be of use to you.”

“Yeah man, this is great. This is way better than anything the Cobalt Soul has, at least the shit I’ve seen.”

“You are… perfectly welcome, Beauregard.”

And then there was Beau, to throw a wrench into every plan he’d ever had.

Of course she’d wanted to come; she was an Expositor, being let into a conservatory of that size and status was every Cobalt Soul monk’s wet dream. Essek had been _hoping_ , however, that this would be a one-on-one outing. What did she have, some sort of preternatural sense for when Essek was desperately trying to get Caleb on his own for more than five minutes? Either she was just oblivious to Essek’s intentions, which he could deal with in time, or she was deliberately inserting herself into Essek’s plans for some reason. He both feared and expected it was the latter.

“Ah, are we likely to be let in here again? Or is this just a one-time thing?” Caleb questioned, shaking Essek out of his internal debate. Those blue eyes were on him again, though his attention seemed split between the shelves around them and Essek. He supposed that was fair enough.

“On my authority, you’ll have access while I’m with you,” Essek answered, glaring at a passer-by who scowled at the two humans. “I can bring you back, but I doubt they will let you in on your own.”

There was a chance they could be let in without supervision with time, given their contributions to the Dynasty. Though it was selfish, and immature, and he knew that oftentimes the Mighty Nein genuinely just wanted him around, the insecure voice in the back of his head insisted he needed to give them a reason to want him. And he couldn’t completely ignore it.

“In that case, would you happen to have any recommendations for transmutation? To be honest, I am, ah, not sure I could find it on own,” Caleb confessed, peering at the thousands of shelves that lined every available wall.

“There _is_ a complex sorting system, but I understand it can be overwhelming at first,” Essek agreed, nodding to the clerk manning the main reception of the conservatory. She raised an eyebrow at the two humans accompanying him, but said nothing further.

“Beauregard?” Caleb questioned. “Will you be coming with us?”

_Please say no, please say no, please say–_

“Yeah, I’ll come with. Just wanna get a lay of the land, anyway.”

_Fuck._

Doing his very best not to glare daggers at her too-knowing grin, Essek nodded in a way he hoped was amicable rather than homicidal. “Very well; follow me, then.”

He guided them through the stacks with the practised ease that came with spending much of his time there over the past half-century or so, but slow enough to allow Caleb to gawk. Aware of Beau’s keen gaze, he tried not to let himself get distracted by Caleb’s presence at his side. Honestly, what did she think he was going to do? Kill him?

( _You know why she’s here,_ a traitorous part of his brain protested. _You’re the one with the badly hidden feelings, and she’s the protective younger sibling trying to look out for him. You just don’t want to acknowledge it, because then that makes it real.)_

“How old is this place? It’s extraordinary,” Caleb breathed. He could’ve been talking about the massive stained-glass depiction of the Bright Queen, but it was more likely he was focused on the solid four rows of shelves dedicated towards examining the difference and correlation between dunamancy and quantum mechanics. Admittedly, it was one of Essek’s favourite sections.

“It is one of the oldest buildings in Rosohna, though it has been renovated multiple times since its construction,” Essek explained, taking them across one of the many glass-and-steel walkways. “I am glad you like it, Caleb.”

Beau coughed next to him, and he couldn’t tell if it was pointed or if she just needed to clear her throat.

Another turned corner and a set of stairs, and the first line of shelves labelled as ‘transmutation’ finally came into view. Arcane lights flickered at the walls and on the tables, lighting the space in shades of soft orange. It was empty for the most part, leaving the dotted tables, chairs and plush settees blessedly free of prying eyes and ears. At his side, Caleb sucked in a breath.

“ _Götter oben und unten_ ,“ Caleb murmured, with a reverence Essek usually heard reserved for swearing or holy worship.

“We have quite the range for transmutation, even if it isn’t as commonly used as dunamancy,“ Essek noted, unable to keep a fond smile from his face. “I can point you towards the better ones, if you’d like.”

Caleb didn’t answer; instead, he grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him towards the nearest row, Essek helpless but to follow. Behind him, he definitely heard Beauregard snort.

“If you’re looking for history, you should try the northern tower,” he said over his shoulder as he let Caleb lead him towards a section entitled ‘biological transmutation and natural alchemy.’ Beau looked around for a second, eyes scanning the many sections and book titles. Surely, with her penchant for social sciences rather than arcana, she’d decide to go in search of something more interesting to her. At least, Essek hoped.

“Nah, I think I’ll wander around here. Might find something interesting anyways,” she decided, sticking her hands in her pockets. “I mean, unless you’d rather I go; y’know, give you guys some _privacy_. Fine by me.”

The shit-eating grin she was barely holding back suggested it wasn’t fine by her, and she would in fact probably just hang around to spy on them before finding something to read. Obviously, time alone with Caleb was exactly what he wanted, but it wasn’t like he was just going to let her _win_.

“You’re welcome to do whatever you’d like,” he managed through gritted teeth, using his best ‘I’m being forced to be civil in court’ smile.

“Sweet.” With a last somewhat suggestive nod and raised eyebrow, she set off in a random direction, meandering amongst the shelves. He didn’t know what exactly she was looking for, but so long as she wasn’t vandalising the books like _some_ people he knew, he trusted her not to cause too much of a commotion. Besides, he tended to think some of the more stuck-up librarians at the conservatory could benefit from somebody equal parts abrasive and intelligent at times.

Absently, he realised the hand on his wrist had disappeared, and he’d lost track of Caleb. After a few moments of drifting through the aisles, the familiar shock of red hair caught his eye once more.

“Transmutation isn’t exactly my forte, but I found Isivir Tanyll’s _Palaeolithic Transmutational Organisms_ quite interesting,” Essek mentioned as he approached, getting an absent nod in acknowledgement as Caleb flipped through the pages of some tome at lightspeed. Seemingly deeming it worthy of a more thorough investigation, he tucked it under one arm.

“I find it hard to believe there is a topic on the planet that isn’t your forte,” Caleb replied as he continued his slow scan of the titles. “Beau and Fjord told me about the study in your home; a collection to rival the conservatory itself, I’m imagining.”

Essek scoffed, matching Caleb’s pace as he floated aside. Caleb was still an inch or two taller, though. “If you let any of the librarians hear you say that, you’ll never see the interior of this place again, no matter what I try to do.”

Caleb chuckled softly, and something leapt into Essek’s throat. Every smile he got out of this man felt like his own personal victory. And with Beauregard distracted somewhere else amongst the stacks, he could revel in the win in relative privacy. Provided Caleb himself didn’t catch him staring at him like a lovestruck idiot. Luckily, however, he seemed too distracted by the steadily growing pile of scrolls and tomes in his arms to notice Essek’s observant gaze.

“I suppose I should put a cap on it here,” Caleb said eventually, juggling the books in his arms. Honestly, it was impressive he hadn’t dropped them all already. “I, ah, I don’t want to keep you here unnecessarily.”

“You may stay as long as you’d like; I have some reading of my own I’d like to do, anyway,” Essek said, as he plucked a book at random off the nearest shelf. “Come, there’s a nice spot by the window.”

The aforementioned spot was cosy, one of Essek’s favourite hideouts in the Marble Tomes. Just as thankfully quiet as the rest of the section, a small fireplace crackled in the corner, warming the armchairs and desks scattered around the space. Caleb immediately beelined towards a desk near the fire, and with a snap of his fingers Frumpkin apparated to curl up in front of it. A moment later, and his spellbook was on the table amongst the scrolls and tomes and he’d already set to work.

With a small, amused sigh, Essek took his place beside him, sitting perhaps slightly closer than was required. They read and worked in a companionable quiet, broken by occasional comments and deadpan jokes about whatever reading material Caleb was currently poring over. Essek, not overly invested in his own volume, contributed by pointing out which of the librarians that occasionally passed were polite and which were downright bitchy.

“It seems you know this library very well,” Caleb noted, running a finger along the spine of a hardcover he’d cracked open. “Do you come here often as part of your work for the Queen?”

Essek nodded. “I do, in part. Though I did come here often before I became Shadowhand, just out of natural curiosity. I am sure you can relate.”

“That I do,” Caleb agreed, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. Another small victory. “Did they just let you in automatically, as part of Den Thelyss?”

Essek paused. He lost focus on the books in front of him, instead seeing the kind face of a young librarian he’d met decades ago. So much gentler than his father’s, and so much more present than his mother’s. The books had felt that way too; they would always be there, would always be the same, no matter how many times he needed to go back to them.

“Perhaps,” he said quietly, shaking himself out of his reverie. “This place… it feels like home.”

Looking up, he caught Caleb’s eye; he was watching him, in that quiet, contemplative way he always did. The book had been forgotten, for all that Caleb had seemed absolutely taken with it just moments before.

“I think I understand,” Caleb murmured. Beneath the table, something brushed against Essek’s fingers; a moment later, a calloused hand slid over his own, gentle but steadfast in its presence. Caleb squeezed once, and the warmth of his touch spread through Essek’s entire body. He stared at him in silence for just a moment, something thick and emotional stuck in his throat.

“Essek,” Caleb continued, so quietly Essek momentarily wasn’t sure he’d spoken. “I need to–”

“Sup, guys. I didn’t find anything interesting.”

_Are you. Fucking. Kidding me._

“Ah, hallo Beauregard,” Caleb greeted, too stilted to be casual. The hand on Essek’s beneath the table disappeared as Caleb pulled away, setting a solid few inches between them. “What do you – how – what’s wrong?”

Smooth. “Nothin’, nothing’s wrong,” she responded, cocking an eyebrow at him. “I just got bored of wandering aimlessly. What, am I _interrupting_ something?”

“No, you are not,” Essek said pointedly, willing the tips of his ears to stop burning. She’d probably already noticed, and it was incredibly likely he’d never live it down, but he did want to preserve _some_ of his dignity. “If you’re bored, I can show you out.”

She squinted at him slightly – not suspiciously, though. It seemed she was more amused than anything else, which was some combination of refreshing and infuriating.

“No, actually – I was gonna ask if you could point me towards stats on the Wildemount pantheon. Demographics of worshippers, geography, shit like that. I’d never find it on my own, and all the attendants I approached scowled at me.”

He winced in sympathy, for all that he was frustrated. He’d have to have a word with them. “That… is not surprising. Come, then; I can point you in the right direction. It’s just downstairs.”

“Sweet. Do you want me to grab you anything, or are you focused on your nerd shit?” she asked, nodding towards Caleb. He’d kept his eyes averted during their odd exchange, though the flush that dusted his cheeks red spoke for itself.

“Ah, no. I am fine, danke.”

The walk to the section on religion was relatively short, though it stretched on longer as he became more aware of Beau’s eyes on the back of his head. She didn’t even see the need to be discreet, apparently; every time he turned, she would just look back meaningfully. That look was becoming too familiar for his liking. Blessedly, the expansive section entitled ‘Exandrian Religions’ soon loomed close.

“I believe you’ll find statistical research on religion in rows six and seven,” Essek commented. “Though I’ll have a look; it’s been a while since I’ve had to delve into this section.”

She gave him a nod of thanks – no more than a jerk of the chin, though he felt the genuine appreciation behind the gesture – and took off to stroll through the aisles beside him. She stopped occasionally to pick up a volume, though he could swear she was watching him over the top of the cover.

“So,” she began, much too casually. “What’re you guys doing up there?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, then turned back towards the lines of books. “Reading. This is a library; I’d hoped you’d be familiar with the usual activities here.”

He felt rather than saw the flat glare she fixed him with, and allowed himself a slight smirk. Usually, he reserved this degree of thinly veiled snark for court; the low-stakes nature of the game they were playing was a nice change of pace, in all honesty.

“Alright, fine,” Beau conceded, giving him the sidelong glance of the century. “I just wasn’t aware your definition of reading was ‘stare at Caleb while he reads.’ Seems like a pretty fuckin’ weird way to study to me, unless you can secretly read minds.”

Essek, trying not to choke on his own spit and attempting to pass it off as a scoff, looked to the heavens. “What is the purpose of this interrogation? If you would like to know what we were _studying_ -“ special emphasis placed, even though he had been doing nothing of the sort “-you are perfectly welcome to join us. Or just ask Caleb yourself.”

A beat of overstrung silence passed, the only sound being the murmur of far-off conversations and the drag of Beau’s fingers against parchment.

Then, the huff of a sigh, and the snap of a book closed too quickly. “Alright, let’s cut the shit; what do you want with him?”

At that, Essek turned fully, meeting Beau’s level gaze with his own. It contained neither unwarranted prejudice nor hope, just a desire for the truth. _Which_ truth she was after, though, was another matter entirely.

“If you are worried that I will betray, manipulate or otherwise try to take advantage of Caleb or any of your friends, you are mistaken,” Essek began. He got the feeling he was answering a different question to the one she was asking, but if he could feign ignorance, he would. “You know where my loyalties lie, and I would like to think I am above a honeypot scheme _regardless_ -“

“What? I know that,” Beau interrupted, like he’d just told her grass is green. “Listen, I’ve heard the shit you say around us; you’ve given us too much ammo to try to fuck us over now, anyway. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

_Please don’t be talking about what I think you’re talking about, I can’t handle that much soul-bearing in a short period._

“What I _am_ worried about is Caleb. As in, like, you and Caleb. Come on, man, don’t make me spell it out for you.”

Praying for mercy from whoever was listening, Essek just pinched the bridge of his nose and prepared for the worst.

“Very well,” he breathed as he let his gaze drop to the floor between them. He could put on a façade for many unpleasant interactions, but this was a bit too much. “If you have something to say, please do me the favour of saying it now.”

What was it? Essek seemed dangerous? Caleb just didn’t like him at all and was too polite to tell him to his face? He didn’t even like _men_ , and he’d been doomed from the start?

Some part of his interior monologue must have registered on his face, because Beau’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and when he looked up, her face had softened. She looked younger, and less jaded by the world.

“I fuckin… I like you, dude; I think the others like you too. More importantly, I know _he_ likes you too, in his weird nerdy way. So you don’t have to worry about that.”

Essek just blinked at her. Obviously, Caleb must’ve liked his company on some level if he was willing to spend hours at a time in his presence; still, verbal validation was always nice.

Beau continued, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I just – we look out for each other, especially with shit like this. He’s supported me with personal shit, and I want to have his back. I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

Essek didn’t respond immediately. How do you respond to such a bare-faced declaration of loyalty, when you have received and given so little yourself?

“I don’t want to hurt him, Beauregard,” he murmured. “I don’t. The political climate is turbulent, and much of the time I’m not sure who can be trusted. But it has been a long time since I have let anybody into my life; I am not so fickle as to let him, or any of you, go so easily.”

It was the truth, every word of it; but it wasn’t until he caught the crooked grin she gave him that he let go of the breath he’d been holding. An incredulously relieved chuckle escaped his lips, and he was hopeless but to smile shyly in return.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” she declared, clapping a hand on his shoulder in a way she probably considered gentle. “And if you think you’re being slick, you’re not; a study date is, like, the oldest trick in the book for nerds.”

“It’s not a–”

“Yeah, whatever you say, bud,” she cut in, leaving him sputtering. “Just be careful not to bring it up around Jester, or you’ll be getting a full outline of the plot of her latest romance novel. Which – not to assume shit – doesn’t really seem like your thing.”

He decided not to bring up the fact that she’d already told him every detail about _Tusk Love_ , as well as her plans to rewrite _The Courting of the Crick_ to be more respectful. From what he knew of the novel, he didn’t think it would be an awful idea.

“I’ll – I’ll keep that in mind,” he managed eventually. “But, ah, if you don’t need me to show you around anymore…”

“Oh, yeah, the interrogation’s done; you’re free to go back to your man. Also, he likes it when you ask questions about his spells, just saying,” she added, visibly trying to contain a smirk. It was a courageous effort. “Just, uh, one thing before you go?”

“Yes?”

She raised the book she was holding, waving it slightly in front of his face, and then leaned in conspiratorially. “If this one suddenly disappeared from the conservatory, would you tell anyone?”

He closed his eyes and practised some ‘deep breathing,’ waiting for patience, or strength, or _something_ to bequeath itself upon him. It didn’t.

“If you can get it past the woman at the main desk, it’s yours.”

All he heard was a delighted cackle; when he opened his eyes, both she and the book had disappeared.

When he returned upstairs, Caleb gave him a curious look over the top of the scroll he’d unfurled. “You were gone quite a while.”

“Beau just wanted a few pointers towards the better ones. Always happy to help in the pursuit of knowledge,” Essek said, steadfastly ignoring the slightly suspicious squint he got in return.

“Of course, of course.”

Another minute of somewhat expectant quiet, while Essek (pretended to) read and Caleb actually read, until it was broken again.

“Essek, did Beau do anything…”

He waited patiently for the sentence to be finished. “Did Beau what?”

Another beat, until Caleb shook his head – it looked like he was trying to dislodge an unpleasant thought – and waved a hand dismissively.

“Ah, never mind. It wasn’t important.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh I love writing beau you guys, she's so fun to write dialogue for.  
> anyways, thanks for reading! as usual, if you like CR, you can find me on tumblr @higgity-heck. kudos and comments are greatly appreciated


	3. Drei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Essek gets minorly harassed, but also gets some advice from an unexpected source. As in, really unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so fair warning, this was written before the fucking explosion that was episode 97, so there will be some things that are inaccurate or redundant. Hope you guys can still enjoy it tho!!!

For a while, Essek didn’t try to actively pursue it any further. Beauregard’s warning-turned-advice had been reassuring in a bizarre way, since the insecure voice in the back of his head that sounded too similar to his father’s quieted slightly. When he was scorned for his inexperience amongst his fellows, he was enough for the Mighty Nein, at least. Wanted, even; the feeling was as terrific as it was terrifying.

So, he was changing his approach, in regards to the Caleb situation. There was no point in trying to deny the fondness he had for the man (he _refused_ to call it a crush), but he attempted to stop analysing Caleb’s reactions to him out of fear of rejection. Allowing things to happen on their own was something he tended to detest, though.

Regardless, his relations with the rest of the Mighty Nein seemed to be going well.

“Mr Essek – with all due respect – if you don’t get out of my kitchen, I’m going to get violent.”

Perfect.

“You’d better listen,” Fjord called from the dining room, over the racket of the others. “He gets very particular over the state of the kitchen.”

Considering he’d already had a few near-death experiences that day, it was probably best that he follow Fjord’s advice. He quite liked Caduceus, he was surprised to find; the firbolg’s odd nature and mannerisms had been disconcerting at first, but the feeling was quickly overshadowed by a quiet sort of appreciation. Especially for his healing prowess, which he’d had the unfortunate pleasure of being on the business end of just earlier.

“I’ll get out of your way,” he ceded, raising his hands in surrender. Caduceus offered him a patient smile, though, and handed him the other bottle of whiskey he’d been aiming for. Personally, Essek preferred drinks that didn’t set his throat on fire on the way down, but it had appeared to be a table favourite.

Speaking of the table, a loud clatter followed by raucous laughter sounded from the adjacent room, dragging his attention back to the dining space. Through the din, he could distinctly hear Caleb’s sharp bark of laughter, both rough and carefree. He’d never heard him laugh like that.

He poked his head in, to see most of the room in even more chaos than the Mighty Nein usually commanded, which was a feat in and of itself. He went unnoticed for a moment, just watching as they went about setting up some odd game that involved Nott trying to throw a coin in a tankard while blindfolded. Considering she was about three sheets to the wind already, it was quite impressive.

Caleb, sitting to the side and grinning at Nott and Beau’s rapidly escalating competition, caught Essek’s eye and waved him over. He didn’t quite seem drunk – not even tipsy, to be honest – but he did look more relaxed than usual. There was a certain teasing sheen in the look he gave Essek, and his cheeks and ears had gone delightful shade of pink.

“Ah, the bringer of booze,” he announced, drawing attention to the bottle Essek set down in the centre of the table. “You know, you are much braver than most for venturing in there.”

Essek frowned, watching Caleb fill their glasses generously. “For going into the mind flayer colony? You all went in there too.”

Caleb stared at him for a moment, then snorted. “No, I mean the kitchen. I almost lost a finger going in there while he was cooking, once.”

Essek chuckled into his glass, observing the general chaos that was the Mighty Nein’s celebrations. He hadn’t even meant to get involved with the group’s quest into the lair, but a sudden swarm of aberrations had put an end to his plans to just drop them off. And if he’d decided to stick with them, fighting monsters, for longer than was completely necessary because he had paperwork at home he didn’t want to do, then he figured he could allow himself that.

(He’d be lying if he said he also didn’t want to show off some of his more combat-oriented spells to Caleb. He would _also_ be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed a few appreciative looks from the man – for the spellcasting prowess or _otherwise_ – and chose a few flashier ones accordingly.)

“How are you feeling?” Caleb asked, sobering slightly. “It was quite a hit you took.”

Essek winced, though it was more in memory of a thick, black tentacle digging into his ribs than any lingering pain. It had hurt like a bitch at the time, but Caduceus and Jester were _very_ good at what they did; he doubted it would even scar.

“I’m alright,” he said, then waved a hand at Caleb’s disbelieving look. “I _am_ , Caleb. You don’t have to dote on me, and besides, I’m sure you’ve all had much worse injuries before.”

_I do like that you’re doting to begin with, though. You are so much softer than you let yourself think you are._

“Not a lot of people can say they’ve fought a giant brain covered in tentacles, though,” Yasha pointed out from her side of the table, her soft tone somewhat at odds with the ridiculous sentence that came out of her mouth. “Even we haven’t done that before.”

“A new experience for everyone, then,” Essek agreed, running a finger around the rim of his glass before taking a sip; cautiously, though. Even considering he didn’t mind the taste of spirits, elves weren’t known to handle their liquor well. And, as much as he trusted these new friends of his, he didn’t want to embarrass himself.

Next to him, Caleb slammed back most of his whiskey and set it heavily back on the table. He wasn’t a large man by human standards, but compared to Essek’s slight build, he certainly seemed… broader. Taller too, by a good five or six inches, which Essek was rapidly discovering he apparently had a ‘thing’ for. Or maybe it was just Caleb that he had a thing for, because there was no denying that any longer.

“It was nice, having you along. I got to see some of your, ah, fancier tricks,” Caleb murmured lowly, and something about it set the fine hair on the back of Essek’s neck standing on end.

“I always do like a chance to show off,” Essek preened, and he wasn’t able to stop his smile when Caleb rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I’d prefer not to get maimed in the process, though.”

“A note to remember, then. For next time we drag you along with us.”

_I want nothing more than a next time. The time I spend with you, with your ridiculous friends, is so dear to me it’s terrifying._

“For next time.”

“Yeah, nobody died today,” Nott chimed into their conversation as she passed, grinning at the both of them. “Not even Essek, and he doesn’t even go adventuring! We’re doing great!”

“Ohmygoshyouguys!” Jester shouted, slamming her hands down on the table with enough force that her milk spilled everywhere. Initially, Essek had thought she was drinking just as much as the others, but it turned out that was just her personality. “You know what this means, right?”

She got a table of blank stares, except where Beau was too preoccupied arm-wrestling Fjord. When Caleb raised his eyebrows expectantly, Jester just rolled her eyes at them.

“Essek’s had a near death experience with us! This means he’s, like, officially a member of the Mighty Nein, right?”

A moment of thoughtful consideration, until Fjord spoke. “Since when is ‘almost dying’ a criterion for being part of the Mighty Nein? Is that our thing, now?”

“Eh, it’s always been our thing,” Beau drawled, apparently having given up trying to win the arm-wrestle. “We didn’t even start travelling together until we fought Kylre, and that involved a few close calls.”

“We’re not the only members, though,” Fjord said, setting his half-empty glass on the table somewhat clumsily. “What about Kiri, and, uh, fuckin – what’s her name? – that gnome girl who gave us the Happy Fun Ball?”

“Twiggy, Cali, Shakäste, Kiri…” Nott trailed off, listing names on each of her fingers before nodding to herself. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure somebody got grievously injured at some point with all of them. It’s the common factor, I think.”

Essek stared at them all. “That’s a little bit concerning.”

“We’re very concerning people,” Caduceus stated, placing down a plate of cheeses and resuming a spot at the table. He had to agree.

“Welcome to the Mighty Nein, Essek Thelyss,” Caleb asserted, clinking their glasses together, which somebody must’ve refilled at some point. A chorus of welcomes and cheers rose from the others, as well as the _tink_ of more glasses being tapped together; he ducked his head and smiled at the surface of the table, though he was sure the burning at the tips of his ears was clear as day.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered Caleb’s gaze on him, striking as it always was. The jubilant chatter faded to the background. He’d propped his chin on his hand, his head still angled mostly towards the group, but the pure, heated focus he had on Essek from the corner of his eye was obvious. A slender finger traced the rim of his glass, still mostly full; buzzed, but not so inebriated he wasn’t fully aware of his actions. That was… revealing.

Hope flared to life in his ribs, unbidden but expected all the same. He had a decision to make here, one that would either put an end to his current source of distress or birth a new one.

But he didn’t earn his position as Shadowhand by shying away from risks, and he wasn’t about to start then.

Their unnecessary – but welcome – closeness at the table made it far, far too easy to slide a hand from the tabletop to rest innocently between them on the bench. Every movement had them brushing arms, rubbing shoulders. He could swear Caleb hummed softly, his eyes flicking from Essek’s face to follow the movement. Just an experiment; a test of the waters, to see if the temperature was favourable.

“It is an honour,” Essek said to the group at large, as if trying to prove to Caleb (and himself) his own nonchalance about their whole discreet game. “Though I’m going to decline more near-death experiences for now.”

Clever fingers trailed over the tops of his knuckles, lighter than air, but didn’t take. Instead, they wound up on the top of his thigh, just above the knee. His breath caught in his throat, even though it was the sort of contact most wouldn’t blink at. What was he, some pearl-clutching noble? He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at himself.

Even so, he couldn’t quite make himself look at Caleb, and instead stared straight ahead at where Fjord had launched into some story or another. It seemed like it was quite entertaining, though for the life of him he couldn’t get himself to focus on the words.

An almost magical warmth spread through him, far more powerful than anything a fire or strong drink could muster, even though the touch was light and perfectly chaste. Almost subconsciously, he relaxed into the touch, and allowed the tension that had permeated his shoulders to gently dissipate. In his peripheral, Caleb’s gaze on him remained steady, though he quirked an eyebrow in silent question. Always asking permission and setting the most respectful of boundaries, just in case. He would probably find it sweetly chivalrous if he wasn’t desperately trying to get him to hurry up about it.

“I didn’t figure you for someone who would half-ass things, Caleb,” Essek murmured aside, while the others were too focused on Fjord to care about what they were doing. At least, he hoped so; Caduceus and Jester both tended to blur the lines between observant and nosy.

Beside him Caleb’s eyebrows shot up, whether in surprise or indignation, Essek wasn’t sure. Even so, the slightest of smirks flickered at Caleb’s lips. Those pale, dextrous fingers moved again, but they migrated no further along his leg. Instead, he traced a quick line, then another, and–

“I’m not.”

 _Oh_.

Cool fingers danced along the back of his neck, exposed as it was without his mantle, though when he turned in surprise nothing was there. Beneath the table, the slightest of arcane glimmers coated Caleb’s hand, still situated firmly on his thigh. Caleb – in full, infuriating view of the six other people present – had that very specific glint in his eyes, the one he only tended to get when he’d nailed a particularly difficult spell.

Essek cleared his throat roughly, which was probably the worst attempt to appear nonchalant Exandria had ever seen. “Resorting to tricks, are we?”

Blue eyes narrowed at him, and Essek had only a few seconds to regret speaking at all before that phantom touch reappeared. It glanced along his neck again, trailing along the smooth skin until it reached the short bristles of his undercut before disappearing again. The fingers were cool, like chilled steel, though a flustered heat crept along his neck and face anyway. He could only pray that the others would blame his sudden blush on the alcohol.

Vaguely, he realised the others at the table had some sort of drinking game; though thankfully, they must’ve considered the two of them a lost cause already.

“I have a lot of tricks, Essek,” Caleb murmured as he dragged an invisible finger down Essek’s spine. “I should get to use them for fun occasionally.”

Ah, there went every other notion in Essek’s head as he followed _that_ particular train of thought. He clenched his jaw and tore his gaze away from Caleb’s, searching for patience and self-control in the grain of the wooden table. Almost teasingly, a finger trailed back up his spine and neck, then continued until it traced along the very edge of one pointed ear. It had him damn near squirming, because his ears _are very sensitive, thank you, and capitalising on that fact simply isn’t fair._

“Harassing your poor guest is fun for you, is it? How barbaric,” he commented, arching an eyebrow in a way that probably looked more put-together than he felt. “I could almost be tempted to retaliate.”

Caleb smirked. “That is something I could only wish to see, Shadowhand.”

Essek held his gaze for a beat, determined not to let himself get too flustered. How the impenetrable façade he’d constructed for court disintegrated so easily in this man’s presence, he didn’t know. It felt good, though, to drop that figurative mask; almost as good as the feeling of Caleb pressed against his side.

“Keep taunting me in front of an _audience_ , and your wish might just come true.”

“If you wanted privacy, all you had to do was ask,” Caleb smirked, and broke their quasi-staring contest to eye the others. For their part, they seemed very occupied with throwing back shots in the throes of their game. “Come, we’ll grab another bottle or two. It looks like they’ll be needing it.”

He traced another few arcane symbols against Essek’s thigh, and the subtle, ozone-like smell of magic disappeared from the air. When he stood, he took the warmth that had permeated Essek’s body with him, leaving him with only a tingling coolness. He offered some half-hearted promise of more booze to the table, but it went largely unnoticed.

As if pulled into orbit around him, Essek was helpless to follow, though not so preoccupied not to notice Caduceus’ eyes tracking them all the way out. Hopefully, he would be too distracted refereeing Nott and Beau to interrupt.

The kitchen wasn’t particularly spacious for such a large house, but it was well-worn and well looked after, evidently seeing much more use than Essek’s own kitchen. It wasn’t as lit as the dining room, the candles having guttered a little.

“I hope you had your fun terrorising me in front of your entire family. It is a miracle nobody noticed,” Essek muttered, narrowing his eyes at the back of Caleb’s head as he grabbed the last bottle of whiskey and placed it on the counter.

“Perhaps it was a little bit cruel,” Caleb admitted, leaning back against the kitchen bench just out of view of those in the dining room. “I’m sorry for, ah, tormenting you.”

“You will be,” he grumbled, noting that Caleb looked decidedly unapologetic. In fact, he even snickered softly; such gall, with the Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty. He relished in it.

Essek reached around him on the bench, looking for where he knew they kept the shot glasses. Caleb didn’t move, even when Essek nearly had to press up against him to reach the cupboard.

“Empty threats,” Caleb countered, and his breath tickled Essek’s ears. “You haven’t called in any of our numerous debts. I’d even go so far as to say you tolerate my company.”

Essek stilled. It was a joke, or course it was a joke; he still had that playful tilt to his head, but the words turned his heart to lead in his chest. It hurt, a little bit, that even after all this time he still couldn’t express how much Caleb meant to him in any meaningful capacity. He tolerated Caleb’s company like his lungs tolerated oxygen.

“I don’t – I don’t ‘put up with’ you, Caleb,” Essek faltered, pulling back to look him in the eye. “I – I’m here because I want to be here.

Caleb frowned at his response, and the playful atmosphere disappeared like fog in the morning sun. Scanning his face, Caleb gently took the glasses from his hands and set them on the bench behind him.

“Essek, I know. I am, ah, I am glad for it. You know I was not serious, ja?” he asked, and his eyebrows sunk into an unhappy line. It was a familiar expression on Caleb, but something sunk in Essek’s chest as he realised it had never been turned on him.

“Of course,” he bluffed, setting into place his most appeasing, court-worthy smiled. “You clearly weren’t serious. I know.”

The intense frown didn’t cease, and Caleb just kept looking at him like he was privy to every lie he’d ever told. Internally, Essek cursed his own blunder; he’d gone and brought up his own childish insecurity, and now he’d made Caleb upset when he should’ve been happy. Another reminder of why he kept to himself.

“I have made you upset,” Caleb stated, softly. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. Let me fix it.”

For a moment, Essek leapt at the chance to lie; absolutely nothing is fine, everything is great, what a silly question. But there they were, and they were only a few inches apart, and he looked so earnest, and Essek could see every different shade of blue that made up his eyes, and he just _couldn’t_.

“I–” he began, but the words caught in the tightness of his throat. Fuck, this was _not_ the situation to have this conversation.

Charm wouldn’t help, even if he chalked much of his political success up to a proficiency in scripted, formal social interactions and an ability to pretend he liked people. Nothing had prepared him for what to do when he _actually_ liked people.

In insecure desperation, he could drive him away; but distance would just make him leave of his own. And, gods help him, he didn’t want Caleb to leave him, or any of them to leave him. He couldn’t disappoint them, just like he had when–

“Essek, I can see you spiralling,” Caleb interrupted, his voice both rough and painfully gentle. “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

Essek cast his gaze to the side, looking for answers in the wood of the bench. When he didn’t answer, Caleb shifted slightly, and calloused fingers hooked around the palm of Essek’s hand. He was so _warm_ , as he always was, and Essek could swear part of him melted.

“I am… so afraid,” Essek finally croaked. “Of you.”

Caleb blinked at him, brow relaxing in surprise. He went to draw breath, but Essek beat him; the dam had broken.

“I fear how close you are to me, and what you really think of me, but more than any of that I’m scared you – that I don’t matter to you as much as you matter to me,” Essek rushed out. The words tasted like bile, acidic in their merciless honesty.

“I’ve already embarrassed myself, but I didn’t want to – I’ve been running away from abandonment my whole life. So I don’t let people near me, but here you are, and I’ve never felt this for somebody before and it’s terrifying, but I don’t want to ruin everything for you or your friends. And it’s dumb, but I–“

“Essek–“

“–I wanted to tell you, and I’ve been _trying_ to tell you, but it was never the right time, and I’m sorry I’m telling you now because this isn’t a good time, and I know you were just teasing me with the mage hand for fun and you’re not as serious about it as I am. I won’t resent you for not feeling the same because–“

“Essek,” Caleb interrupted, in a tone that invited no argument. Essek clamped his jaw shut with a faint click, and forced himself to meet Caleb’s gaze. If he was going to crash, he wanted to maintain some dignity while he burned.

Caleb’s expression had softened, in a way Essek seldom saw. The crease between his eyes disappeared, the concerned replaced by some sad fondness. Though he didn’t smile, his eyes crinkled at the corners. Unassumingly beautiful. Essek wished he could tell him that.

“Essek,” he repeated like a mantra, and gods, he loved it when Caleb said his name. It was only when he placed his hands carefully on Essek’s shoulders that he realised he was halfway to hyperventilating. They stood in silence for a moment, Caleb rubbing absent circles into his shoulders and Essek waiting for the world to crash down on him.

“I’m sorry that you would ever feel that you would ruin everything for us,” Caleb began, barely louder than a whisper. Essek’s throat tightened. The last time he’d cried was the last time he’d seen his father alive; what better way to ruin this relationship than the same way he’d ruined that one?

Caleb’s hands slid up, up, until they rested at his neck. He pressed a thumb to the tightness of his jaw in a silent request; Essek unclenched his teeth under his touch. Subconsciously, he let his shoulders slump too.

“And I’m sorry,” Caleb continued. “That you don’t know how utterly incorrect you are.”

Essek’s head snapped up, and he narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“You’re very clever,” he said as he ran a thumb across Essek’s jawline. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch. “So I don’t understand what on Earth made you think that you are – are unimportant to me, or I think anything but the best of you, or even that I don’t feel the same about you. It’s a very big leap.”

Essek just stared, then realised he was probably supposed to respond. “You… feel the same.”

Caleb smiled sadly and gently dragged his fingers through Essek’s short hair, then dropped his arms back to his sides. “You are fascinating, and clever, and sweet, Essek, and it would be impossible for me not to be enamoured with you. I only regret not making that clearer.”

“Why didn’t you…” he trailed off, and for the first time Caleb looked uneasy.

“I didn’t want to – to drive you away. I thought I was pushing my luck with friendship; I wanted to avoid overwhelming you, but it seems that didn’t turn out well,” he finished, gesturing vaguely to their general predicament. Essek choked out a wet chuckle, and it sounded uncomfortably raw.

“It is a bit of a mess,” he admitted, hit with a sudden wave of embarrassment and fiddling with the hem of his sleeve. “I feel like a bit of a fool, to be honest.”

“You’re not-“ Caleb cut himself off and thought about it a moment. “Maybe a bit. But if that’s true, then so am I. For not getting my shit together faster.” For the first time in what felt like a millennium, Essek cracked a shy smile.

“And the, uh, mage hand business?” Essek asked, perhaps more hopefully than nervously. “You weren’t just mocking me?”

Caleb smiled sheepishly. “The goal was to tease you a bit, but my intention was never to, ah, lead you on,” Caleb said, rubbing the back of his neck. Essek’s eye followed the movement, then got stuck on the junction of Caleb’s neck and jaw; it had grown slightly stubbly in the days since he’d last shaved. Essek had always wondered what it felt like.

He raised a hand, slowly, the rings on his fingers glinting in the low light. Caleb’s eyelids lowered a bit as he watched, his eyelashes casting long shadows over his face, and Essek just wanted to–

“They’re going to come in here, soon,” Caduceus said.

Essek sprung back like he’d been struck and muffled a yelp with the back of his hand, spinning to stare at him. There was an uncomfortable, pregnant pause, in which Essek and Caleb stared incredulously at Caduceus, who just gazed back far too calmly. His arms were crossed loosely, and he leaned against the wall.

“Um, Clay,” Caleb managed after the silence had dragged on from awkward to nigh-unbearable. “How long – what are you doing? Here?”

“Only the last ten seconds or so. And I’m telling you that Beau’s noticed you’ve been gone for ages, so they’re probably going to come looking. I thought maybe you’d like a bit of a warning.”

“Ah. Yes. Of course,” Caleb stated flatly, while Essek was preoccupied with staring in mute horror and strongly considering just teleporting away. “Thank you. For the warning.”

He cleared his throat a little too loudly, and snatched both the whiskey and the extra shot glasses from the kitchen counter. He was out of the room in a flash, though not fast enough that Essek didn’t catch the flush on his ears.

Which left Caduceus and Essek.

“Ah…” Essek trailed off, trying for a smooth smile which probably looked more like a grimace, then immediately giving up. His ears twitched as he heard a jubilant cheer from the dining room – likely celebrating the deliverance of more booze – but Caleb didn’t reappear. Probably wise, but still disappointing.

“You’re disappointed,” Caduceus observed, and _holy shit how does he do that?_ “That makes sense. It’s not very easy to try to find a moment of privacy in a big house like this, especially if you didn’t grow up with a big family.”

Briefly, Essek thought back to a conversation about Clay, Dust and Stone, and wondered at Caduceus’ full family history. It seemed even more convoluted than the complex familial relations of most Dens, if that was possible.

“Thank you for what you did. It was… merciful,” he admitted. Finally giving up on the pretence of seeming put-together in front of somebody who could likely see into his soul, he let his shoulders relaxed and slumped into the wall.

“I figured it would be less humiliating than having Beau and Jester walk in here and start screaming,” Caduceus said simply, and Essek couldn’t help the relieved-frustrated-embarrassed laugh that escaped him. “It’s what I would’ve done, if I’d walked in on one of my siblings.”

Curiosity, and perhaps a desire for some of the cleric’s sage advice, overcame his own frustration. “You have experience with this-“ he gestured vaguely at the whole house “-sort of predicament, then?”

“Whole bunch of people under one roof, sure,” Caduceus said, but didn’t offer more. “Trying to sneak off with a boyfriend isn’t a skill of mine. _Definitely_ Colton’s, though.”

Essek whipped his head around to gape at him. “Boyfriend – he is not – that is _not_ a conversation we’ve had, I don’t know what he wants, I don’t think he even–”

“Sure you don’t,” Caduceus interrupted in a tone that suggested he didn’t believe a word of it. “But it’s a conversation you will have, probably soon.”

Essek pinched the bridge of his nose, and let his head fall back against the wall. “How? I cannot get him alone for five minutes without something happening, or somebody walking in, or somebody refusing to leave us alone.”

Caduceus hummed in consideration, and Essek tried to avoid listening for Caleb’s voice in particular in the next room over. He didn’t do a very good job of it.

“We’ll be going to Port Damali late tomorrow, actually,” Caduceus eventually said, and Essek frowned in confusion. “We could always use a lift, and it sounds like you could use an excuse. Beyond that, I don’t know how to help you.”

In spite of himself, and in spite of the fact that he was talking to Caduceus of all people about his romantic obstacles, Essek chuckled. “Thank you. I do like a good scheme.”

Caduceus cracked a lopsided smile in return. “I thought you might. I can tell them you were after some water, if you’d like. Keep them off your back a bit.”

Some of the frustration ebbed out of Essek’s system, just a little bit. “That would be much appreciated. Thank you, Caduceus.”

Caduceus pushed himself off the wall, briefly making Essek worry that his entire rail-thin frame would just topple over, and moved to retreat back to the dining room. He stopped, though.

“Ah, I almost forgot…”

Essek waited, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I thought the whole mage hand thing was pretty funny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! kudos and comments are much appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! if you find any typos please lmk, and if you like cr, come scream at me on tumblr @higgity-heck


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